Douche Canoe: The Tale of the Worst Outdoorsman I Ever Met

It occurred to me that I hadn't told one of my classic, "Tales of Old" in a while.  When I started this blog it was about destruction.  But after about ten blogs of destruction for fun and profit I thought I should expand into other ideas.  I ended up writing posts about all the weird things that have happened to me.  I just haven't done it in a while.

So, it's time for me to tell the story of the "Douche Canoe."  Yes, this is the story of the worst, most stupidest, outdoorsman I have ever met.  Let me start at the beginning.  Dad and I were out duck hunting at Cockroach Bay.  It's out of Ruskin, Florida.

I have drawn a map to help everyone out.  As you can see Dad and I would make our blind in an small island.  The water around the island was anywhere from one to three feet deep.  It depended upon the tides.  Here's my hand drawn map.

We would lay out our decoys in candy cane patterns.  The mallard, pintail and Florida mallard decoys were laid out to the left.  The green and blue wing teal decoys were laid out to the right.  We would put them out forty yards since that is the furthest a hunter would want to shoot at ducks.

We would try to be in our duck blind just before 7 AM since 7 - 8 AM is the best time for duck hunting.  That day, we had seen a few ducks flying around, usually about 300 - 500 yards out.  We tried calling a few in to no avail.  Now just because ducks weren't coming in didn't mean other birds weren't coming into the decoys.  We always had kingfishers flying by.  Storks, cormorants, ibises, blue herons, and other wadding birds would drop by. 

However, at 8:30 AM all wildlife movement stopped.  Nothing was coming near.  Heck, no wildlife was even on the horizon.  Now, I sat on the left hand side of the blind.  Dad sat on my right.  As I looked as far left as I could, I saw something I had never seen.  It was an idiot in a fishing boat within 120 yards of our blind.

I said to Dad, "Surely he can see our decoys?"  It's standard outdoor courtesy that if you see duck decoys you avoid them because that means there are duck hunters trying to duck hunt.  I mean, it's just common sense.  Especially since duck hunters are shooting guns, and you want to stay out of shooting distance.  Again, this is not a hard thing.

So this guy comes around the island in a flats boat.  He's operating a trolling motor while casting a fishing rod.  I keep saying to Dad, "He has to see us, right?"  Dad said he had been duck hunting since the early 70's and never had anyone do something like this.  So I blew my duck call at the boater.  But he kept coming around the island.  I blew my duck call again.  Still, the guy kept fishing out there.

Of course, I don't have explain that no birds or wildlife were coming anywhere near us due to this moron being out there.  I'll admit, I can be an angry guy.  I said to Dad that if the boater didn't get the hint with the duck calls, maybe I should shoot a few shots across his bow.  Dad, of course, wanted to handle the situation in a calmer way.

So Dad made a point of putting his gun down.  He waded out to where the guy was fishing.  Like the map shows the boater was only 120 yards from us.  So Dad wades out and nicely lets the guy know that we are duck hunting.  The guy says, and I'm not kidding, "Are you having any luck?"  I'm sitting in the blind, and I can hear the conversation.  The guy's comment caught Dad off guard.  The boater also said that, "He wondered why the ducks weren't flying away?"  Yeah, that's because they're decoys.  Seriously, I'm not making this up.

Honestly, Dad was being too nice.  I felt like yelling from the blind, "Tell the fuckwad to get out of shooting distance!!!"  But I didn't.  So Dad comes back to the blind believing he got his point across.  So we sit there for another ten minutes.  The douche canoe keeps fishing behind our decoys.  I asked, "Does this guy have a death wish?"  I'm not going to lie.  I was getting very upset.  I was really considering shooting pretty close to his boat and yelling, "Duck!!!"

Dad told me, "We have to share the outdoors.  And if we start shooting at people it will give all hunters a bad name."  But Dad had also had enough.  He said if the moron was going to ruin our hunting he would ruin his fishing.  So Dad set his gun down again.  He waded rather noisily towards the boat.  The guy tried moving away with his trolling motor, but it wasn't that strong of a motor.

So Dad had another conversation with the guy.  To be honest.  It was just like Jerry Seinfeld, a conversation about nothing.  So Dad talks to him for a few minutes.  It was a bit tense, but cordial.  After the conversation Dad waded back to the blind, and the moron boated away from the island.  This whole event took around twenty minutes.  By this time it was almost 9 AM.

Dad and I would usually hunt until 10 AM.  After 10 AM, the wildlife decided to take a nap.  So that's why we stopped hunting at 10 AM.  However, after the boater had hung around our decoys, nothing was coming near us.  So at 9:30 AM we decided to pack it in.  We never fired a shot that day.  We never had a duck come near us.  It was decidedly one of our worst days duck hunting.

I am still hostile about the whole situation to this day.  I can't believe anyone could possibly be that stupid or uncaring.  Here's some sage advice, if you are within 100 yards of ducks and they aren't moving, they're decoys.  I still think I should have fired a few shots across his bow.  But if he didn't get the hint with decoys and a visit, I don't know if shotgun fire was going to work either.  

Hunting Season 2018: Snipe Island, Part 2

Before reading this blog post, please take time to read Part 1:

Hunting Season 2018: Snipe Island, Part 1 

Chapter 8, Saturday Nov. 10th: Day 8.

Dad and I noticed that the deer were moving early in the morning. It was so hot in the afternoon that nothing was moving from 10 AM until 7 PM. 

So we decided to get up extra early. In this case 4:30 in the morning. That put me in my tree stand at 6:55 AM Saturday morning. During all the years I have been hunting I have had great luck seeing and taking game at 7:04 AM. In order to do that I have to be in the woods early. I'm not going to lie. It can be mentally tough to get up that early.

At 8:10 AM I looked out, and from behind a tree I saw the same doe that I thought I had been seeing (or so I thought!) It walked behind two trees in my sightline. I should note that it was walking from my right to left, slightly coming towards me.

I leaned right in my tree stand to try and see it behind the tree. I couldn't see it around the tree. I then leaned left. Then right again. And finally to the left. It then came from behind the trees.

At this point it was facing towards me. I put my scope up on it, and the first thing I thought was, "IT HAS ANTLERS????" My next thought was, "SHOOT ADRIAN! THOSE ANTLERS HAVE A SPLIT!"
I completely rushed my shot, but my crosshairs were right on the deer. I pulled the trigger, and the deer literally flipped backwards. As in, it's front hooves came off the ground, and it flipped clean over.

When it hit the ground it didn't move. My shot was what they call a, "one and done." One shot, and it killed the deer clean. That's when I remembered I needed to eject my shell. I was using my newish rifle, a Rugar RAR .308 (a bolt action rifle), not my old shotgun which was semi-automatic.

I pulled back on the bolt, but didn't come back far enough with it. Somehow my old shell got flipped around backwards, and jammed up my gun when I shoved the bolt forwards. I pulled my bolt back again, and grabbed the shell, and went to toss it. That's when I realized I may want to keep it for sentimental reasons. That, or I could re-load it. So I put the shell in my pocket.

I focused back on the deer. I saw the chest move three times, but after that it stopped. The deer's feet never kicked and the head never came up. I had made a great shot. Not to mention, this was my first shot I ever took with this gun while hunting.

It then occurred to me that Dad might want to know what was going on. I got on my CB radio, and called for him. He asked, "Was that me that shot?" I told him I had a deer down, and yes, I had actually hit it. He was glad to hear that. He told me to be careful as there was another hunter in the woods.

Later on, when Dad came up to where I was, he told me that another hunter passed by him just five minutes before I shot. He wasn't sure if it was me or the other guy who had shot.

But back to the story. So I climbed down my tree stand. I tied my red ribbons around the trees as I made my way up to the deer. I carefully walked up on the deer, and to my relief it was completely dead. I didn't want to walk up on a wounded animal.

I came around, and grabbed the antlers. One of them was buried in the soft dirt, but when I started counting the tines I was surprised that it was a six pointer. It was the ugliest six pointer I had ever seen, but it was a true six pointer. I knew immediately I was not going to mount it's head.

I checked out where the bullet had hit. The deer was somewhat facing me, leaning to my left. My bullet caught it high in the ribcage. From what I could tell my bullet went through the lungs, near the heart, and came out near the back of the deer on the other side. 

I counted my steps back towards my tree stand. I wanted to be sure how far the deer was from me. It was exactly 31 steps. I had actually managed to kill my last deer (back in 1995,) as well as one hog (1990) at 31 steps. It's actually one of those weird coincidences.

I met up with Dad and brought him to where the deer was. I was so in shock I had forgotten to do a touchdown/successful deer hunt dance. Before this I had only shot one deer, and that was back in 1995. Before that I had missed my first three deer. So here it was 23 years later, and I was just in shock. 

Dad wanted to gut the deer there, but I said, "Whoa!" I said the rules said that we had to bring the deer in whole. Dad said he wasn't so sure about that. He asked if I had a copy of the rules. I said, "In fact, I did."

I opened them up and found the section that said, "Deer and turkeys must be transported to the check station with their heads and sex intact." I said that meant we needed to keep the deer whole. So we agreed to do that.

Dad took his tree stand, gun, and my backpack to the truck. I alternated between moving my tree stand and gun, and then moving the deer. I would usually move each 50 yards at a time. Dad came back, and said I'd made great progress. He then took my tree stand and gun back to the truck.

Now, there are bears that live in the state park next to Snipe Island. So I kept my pistol on me. Although, I'm more worried about dealing with hogs than I am bears. Bears will run from you. Hogs have a bit of an attitude sometimes.

I ended up dragging the deer back to the main path by the time Dad got back to me. We then dragged the deer down the path one hundred yards at a time. My feet were cramping up on me. It reminded me of when I played football in high school, and had to push the sled around the field.

Dad and I finally made it back to the truck with the deer. We then decided to drink plenty of water and catch our breath. A Chevy truck passed by, and I waved to the guy. I smart-assed asked him, "Have you seen anything? I haven't seen anything all day." Of course, the deer is lying there right in front of the truck.

The guy, who we found out was named Jim, volunteered to take a few photos of Dad, me, and the deer.  Here's the photo he took of us.

We talked for a bit, and he drove on. Dad and I took photos and video of the deer. Next, we rearranged the truck. That let us tie the deer down on the tailgate. As we were ready to leave the guy in the Chevy came back down the road. He said to come on down to his place. He had a boathouse where we could clean the deer out. Most importantly, he had a water hose. How could we say no to that?

We made it to the check station. When we asked David the attendant if we needed to bring the deer in whole he said yes. So I did read the rules correctly. He weighed the deer, and it came in at 104 pounds. That was the second biggest deer to come out this season.

David also removed the jawbone for the game biologists. He took measurements of the antlers and I filled out my information for him. He also gave me a "deer pin" to put on my jacket. They give them out if you take a deer. So I proudly put mine on. Next we loaded the deer up, and tied it down to the truck.

Before we left, I had to witness David putting my name on the "The Game Board." And yes, that's me giving my "Pirate Victory" face while pointing towards the board.

On a side note, one of the hunters from the private hunt club next to Snipe Island shot a hog.  He dropped it off and gave it to David the Check Station Attendant.  It was a big sal hog that looked like it weighed a lot more than my deer.

Jim gave us directions to his house/boathouse that was only a few miles from Snipe Island. His friend Matt joined us. Jim had taken his share of deer and was dang good at butchering them.  Dad and I were extremely thankful for use of the boathouse.  It was located right on the river, and more importantly had a sink and water hose.  

Jim showed us a great way to cut up the deer so it would be easier to cook. I was overly careful in cutting the deer. I had promised the hide and skull to friends so I was taking my time cutting it.

Jim, Matt, Dad and I shared hunting stories, and Jim gave us all sorts of great advice on what cuts to make and where to cut them. Having the sink, cutting board, butchers' chop axe, sharpening stone, and water hose were of great help.

We put the deer in two coolers, thanked Jim and Matt, and took off for the town of Perry. At this point I was still in shock. "Did I actually just shoot a deer?" Yes. Yes I did.

And I did it on the last day of the Quota Hunt season. Matt said I did it the right way. Dad and I scouted the area. We studied what times the deer were moving. We adjusted where we were sitting. We were up at 4:30 AM.

What we DIDN'T do was pay to belong to a hunt camp. The kind that plants food on their property. The kind that sets up feeders to go off at certain times of the day so you know when the game will be there.

We put in a lot of work and it paid off. It was the right way to hunt. I didn't write this earlier, but Dad and I were hunters #1 and 2 today. As in, we were the first two to arrive. And that's on a Saturday. On a Saturday there should be a bunch of hunters in there.

Not many deer were taken this year, but I took one of them. No hogs had been taken at all. I wonder if the hurricane killed a bunch of them, or caused them to move out of the area?


Chapter 9: Saturday Night, Nov. 10th: Day 8.

After successfully harvesting the deer, Dad and I had a celebratory dinner at Deal's Seafood Restaurant and Oyster Bar. 

When we pulled into the parking lot Dad parked next to a truck that had a dog box in the back. As I stepped out of the truck I smelled something horrible. That's when I realized that the dogs had been successful out hunting too.

Yes, the dogs smelled like blood, death, gore and such. They had most likely killed a hog out there.

Before coming to Deal's the truck and dog's owner really needed to wash out the back of the truck as well as let the dogs play (take a bath) in the river.

That's what my Dad used to do for his hunting dogs. He'd let them "play" in the river. It was an all natural bath. And the beagles loved playing in the water.

The dogs started barking at me, or so I thought. Dad then said they could smell all the deer blood on the back of the tailgate. No wonder it stirred them up.

A lot of my friends have never encountered a true hunting dog. They have more than a little bit of attitude. They can come across as not so friendly combined with a, "You're not the boss of me," attitude.

So needless to say I didn't try to pet them. In fact, I've never tried to pet any hunting dog. And you know what? I'm not going to do so... ever.

Chapter 10:  The Following Week.

Dad and I headed back home on Sunday.  After letting the deer soak on ice for a few days I ended up giving quite a bit of it away.  First, I gave some to a musician friend of mine who is also a chef.  Next I gave a bit to my hunting partner John W.  I really wanted to give him some since he wasn't able to make it out hunting due to being sick.  

Next up, I took some meat, the head and cape to my friend Candie.  She had the tools to tan the hide, as well as boil the skull.  She was going to make what's called an English or Rustic mount of the skull.  

I then met up with my cousin to give him some of the deer meat.  He actually went to school to train as a chef.  He has worked in a few restaurants, so he knows the ins and outs of cutting meat off the bone like a butcher.  He was very thankful for it.  

I took the rest and broke it down into meal sized bags.  I put the bags in the freezer to freeze the meat.  I always do that for wild meat.  If it's frozen, and later on cooked all the way through, it's safe to eat.  

The other fun activity was emptying the trailer.  Everything had to come in.  Clothes needed washed.  Dirty dishes also had to come in and be washed.  Blankets, sleeping gear, and pillows all needed to come in and be washed.  Let's face it, there was just a lot of washing.

We also had to empty the back of the truck.  Coolers needed washed out and bleached.  The tree stands also needed washed and bleached since they had deer blood splattered on them.  

I had to think, it's a lot of work to go hunting.  But I have to say, I had a great time this year.  I learned a lot about hunting by simply paying attention to the woods.  I can say without a doubt that by changing up how I hunted I became a better hunter.  This was also the first year that I didn't fall asleep in my tree stand.  Since I actually managed to harvest a deer I have to say this was a completely successful year.  

Hunting Season 2018: Snipe Island, Part 1

This year I was lucky to be able to draw Snipe Island, part of the Big Bend WMA, as my quota hunt.  That meant I was able to hunt the first nine days, November 3rd to the 11th at Snipe Island.  This year we decided to hunt the first eight days and head back home on Sunday the 11th.  Unfortunately, our hunting buddy John W. ended up getting sick.  So he was not able to come with Dad and I.

So we headed up on Friday, Nov. 2nd.  That let us get settled in at the Perry, KOA, and be ready in the morning for the first day of our hunting season.  Everything went pretty smoothly, and once nighttime arrived we were in bed at the time we planned.

Chapter 1:  Saturday, Nov. 3rd: Day 1.

Aside from one squirrel I didn't see anything exciting.  However someone had a much better day than Dad or I had....

Chapter 2:  Sunday, Nov. 4th: Day 2.

I was in my tree stand at 7:10.  Nothing much was moving, and I was daydreaming.  That's when a doe walked up 15 yards from me.  Luckily I was holding perfectly still while daydreaming.  She took a few steps forward and managed to walk within 10 yards of me.  Needless to say I took a good look at her, and knew she was definitely a doe.

She grazed around me from 7:33 AM to 7:50 AM.  I have to admit, I was really excited.  I hadn't had a doe come that close to me in years.  What happened was that she came down a tree line, and was blocked from my view.  But on the other hand, I was blocked from her view.  Later on I thought, "Man this would have been a great archery shot."

For the next hour I noticed the temperature dropping.  A front was coming in, and it was slowly becoming darker.  About 9 O'clock I had the first raindrops fall on me.  I said, "That's it.  Show's over."  With the front coming in, it was only going to start raining more.  I packed up my gear, and made it to the main trail.

I had been on my handheld CB radio, and calling my Dad ever since the first few drops hit me.  Once I made it to the main trail he finally tuned in.  He asked if I was on the radio, and if I wanted to get down.  I told him, "Yes, I was on the radio, and I was already on the main trail.  In fact, I could see his blaze orange through the woods."

He got down, and we called it a day.  Besides, it was Sunday and the Bucs were playing.  Of course, we knew they would lose, but we're fans so we have to watch.  They ended up losing to the Panthers 42-28, and it wasn't that close.

Here's a photo of me dealing with the rain.

Chapter 3: Monday, Nov. 5th: Day 3.

So that front that came through?  Yeah, it was still raining Monday.  So we took Monday off.  There was nothing we could really do.  Besides, most animals lay down in cover when it's raining so there's no point in trying to hunt when it's cold (okay, cool) and wet out.

Chapter 4: Tuesday, Nov 6th: Day 4.

To make up for the lost hunt on Monday we decided to hunt all day Tuesday.  That was a mistake.  It was hot and humid all day.  The official high was 83 degrees, but the thermometer on Dad's truck read 85 degrees.  Did you ever have a day that was so hot and humid you couldn't drink enough water?  Well, that was this day.

The forecast kept changing.  First, it was forecast that it was going to rain the next three days.  Next, it was going to insanely hot the next three days, but no rain.  We couldn't get a straight answer about the weather.  But in all fairness, we were getting the first winter fronts of the season.  That kept playing havoc with the weather predictions.  Since we thought it might rain the next few days we decided to hunt pretty hard.

One thing Dad wanted me to do was take a photo of him next to his favorite tree out there.  This tree marks where we split up on the main path.  This oak tree it huge.  It must be around 400 years old.  Here's one of the photos I took with Dad by his tree.

Chapter 5: Wednesday, Nov 7th: Day 5.

Dad and I decided to take the day off.  Frankly, we were a bit dehydrated from the previous day.  Also, Wednesday's temperatures were going to be about the same as the day before (83-85 degrees,) but without the wind or cloud cover.

As I had time to write this day, I thought of something that had previously happened to us.

As Dad and I were walking down the path we took into the woods, I held up my left arm and made a fist. It's the sign the armed forces uses to mean, "Stop." Now I didn't learn it in the armed forces, (Dad did.) I learned it from the movie, "Predator."

When someone does this it means they've seen something, and everyone in the party should stop and pay attention. So what did I see that was so important/exciting?

It was a spider. Not just a spider. A spider's web. A big one. It was spun across the entire trail. I was about one foot from it when I saw it. I have to say it was magnificent.

I hated taking it down, but there was no other way to cross the path without removing it. The spider was right at the top of the web waiting for something to fly, (or walk) into it. The spider was only about two inches long. It wasn't a giant banana spider or anything in that family.

This little spider built that trail-crossing web all by itself. Since it had just rained, it had recently built it. So I have to give credit to this little spider. Again I hated to tear down its web.

I also used the inappropriate way to take down the web, as in, I used the end of my gun. But the web stretched all the way as far as I could hold my gun up. I still didn't manage to cut the web at the very top, where the spider was. That part was too tall even for the tip of my gun.

When we came back down the trail there was no new web. I hope the spider found a nice, new place to spin its web.

Here's a photo of our trucks and trailer at the KOA trailer park. They've always been good to us.

Chapter 6: Thursday, Nov 8th: Day 6.

After taking the previous day off we were well rested, relaxed, and ready to go. Everything went smoothly, and we pulled into our favorite parking place on time.

I was walked to my usual spot in the woods. When I reached the tree I put my tree stand on, I looked out, and saw movement. I actually walked up on a deer! The funny thing was I saw it at my usual time of seeing things in the woods at 7:04 AM.

I couldn't tell if it was a buck or doe, but I raised my gun and quietly headed in that direction. Since it was so far from me I knew I couldn't walk up closer to it. Besides, it was going in the opposite direction.

So, as quietly as I could, I set up my tree stand on a different tree. This tree faced where the deer had been. At this point I am facing due North. At about 7:30 I heard all sorts of noise behind me (South.) I actually stood up in my tree stand, and turned around to face South. I was looking back and forth to see what was out there.

And that's when a doe walked right up behind me. As in, from the North. The way I'm supposed to be facing, except that I turned around backwards to see what the noise was behind me.

This doe walks up to within 10 yards of me. That's when I turned and looked back, right into her eyes. And that was the time she jumped back, and ran about 20 yards from me. I felt like such an idiot. She didn't completely run off. She ran toward the East and then made a gigantic circle around me to eventually head West.

Never in my life have I had two times during hunting season where deer were within archery range. I mean, I wasn't hunting with a bow and arrow, but if it was archery season and I was, then I would have had two great shots this season. And remember kids, does are legal to take during archery season.

So that leads us to Dad. Right around the same time as all my fun (7:30) Dad had an adventure of his own. He had a doe run behind him at 90 MPH. Why was she running that fast? Well, because she had a buck with his nose in her "you-know-what" running behind her, also at 90 MPH. I think, "The Rut" had started.

The rules have changed when it comes to harvesting bucks. They must have one antler at least five inches long, and that antler must have a split on it. In other words, you can't shoot spike bucks.

Dad said this buck's antlers were a bit on the small side. He wasn't sure if it would have been legal to take. The buck would have had to stop for Dad to get a better look.

A little bit later on Dad saw a spotted fawn walking down the path that the other two deer had taken. It was most likely the fawn of the chased doe.

Once 9 O'clock passed the woods died down. But those woods were the most active and alive I had ever seen in years for those first two hours. The weather wasn't bad this morning either. I think that's one reason everything was moving around.

Dad and I were hunters number 3 and 4 today. There was only one truck that came in before us. Also, the scoreboard hadn't changed. No one has taken a deer since the 5th, and no hogs have been shot period.

This was completely unlike what it was like just two years previously. When we hunted Snipe Island in 2015 there was close to 60 hogs taken out. I think they had also taken around 30 deer that year. This year was nothing like that.

There had been no hogs taken out. One deer was taken during bow season, and two where taken during muzzleloading season. That meant that only two deer had been taken all quota hunt. 

I believe that Hurricane Michael did a lot of damage to the wildlife in the area.  It passed only 40 miles to the west of Snipe Island.  The area ended up being flooded.  Now hogs and deer can swim, however, that means they can swim and then walk out of the area.  I think they ended up going to higher ground North of Snipe Island.

Dad and I decided to change our hunting method. Since it seemed that the animals were moving from 7 AM to 9 AM, we decided that we would go in earlier. We weren't going to bother with hunting during the evening. It seemed that from 10 AM to 7 PM the animals were just lying down. It was too hot for them to think about moving. 

So we were going to concentrate on getting up at 4:30 AM.  We would leave the KOA at 5:30 AM.  That would put us at the check station at 6:20 AM.  We would then head down the road to our usual spot, pack up, and head in the woods.  I would arrive at my tree stand at around 6:50 AM.

Chapter 7: Friday Nov. 9th: Day 7.

I was in my tree stand at 6:55 AM. At 7:20 I saw a deer through the brush. It was about 40 yards off through extremely dense brush. I couldn't make out if it was a doe or buck.

It was headed in the direction of a open break in the woods. So I set up getting ready for a shot in that direction. However, the deer never headed that way. I saw it when it was about 20 yards from the break, but it never crossed it. 

That was the most exciting part of my day. Dad managed to see two giant raccoons. He was hoping it was hogs he was hearing, but he got a good look at them. They were definitely raccoons.  Not only that, but they were huge raccoons.  I mean, they were trash panda size.

That leaves one day of hunting left. I know I better get something tomorrow if I want to leave here with any deer or hog. Of course, I could throw in the towel, and knock out a few squirrels. Those uppity, loud-mouthed bastards have gotten more annoying every year.

Chapter 8 will be continued in the next blog post.  

… To be continued.

Hunting Trailer Day: Time To Install A New A/C Unit

Last November a new (used) hunting/camping trailer was bought by our little hunting group.  Here's the original blog post that explains everything.

http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/11/new-huntingcamping-trailer-day-its.html

When we bought it we knew there were a few things that we needed to repair.  First up, the trailer lights weren't working at all.  I won't go into it, but let's just say it took a while to repair.  The good news, is that, the lights are now working.  That means all the lights; running lights, brakes lights, and turn signals.

After we had bought the trailer I took a closer look at the A/C unit.  There was no doubt about it, the entire thing needed replaced.  The whole unit was corroded and coming apart.  I didn't even dream about trying to repair small parts on the unit to get it working.  I didn't see anything worth saving.

But I had to remember that the A/C unit was over twenty years old at that point.  A/C units are usually good for about ten years.  So that just confirmed that the entire unit needed replaced.

Frankly, it was also cheaper and easier just to buy a whole unit.  So Dad scoured the internet for the perfect A/C unit.  He found one that came highly recommended and the price was right.  It shipped from Texas to Florida in only three days.  That surprised even me.

Now came the fun part, installing it.  I won't go into huge details like I normally do.  I don't know if anyone should follow what we did as a guide.  I would recommend YouTube.  It has a lot of quality videos on how to install one.

The first thing was to take the interior panel apart, and remove the bolts.  Three came out fine, but of course one just had to be a pain in the butt.  Dad ended up cutting it loose with a grinder.  I highly recommend doing that.  Once the bolts were cut loose it was basically picking the thing up and throwing it off the roof.

Here's Dad and his belly thinking on things.

Luckily he's a lot lighter than I am, and the roof is metal.  This was just after he shoved the old A/C unit off the roof.

As you can see it looked exactly like I said it did.  Next up we cleaned up the hole where the unit sat.

Now about this time it was starting to get hot.  As in, Florida hot.  Before noon it wasn't too bad, but once it got past 12 PM it was downright miserable.  Most of our time we spent on this project was spent on breaks.  As in, resting and drinking a ton of water.  During the hours I spent working on this project I ended up drinking over a gallon of water.  

Once we cleaned the roof and hole off we took the new A/C unit out of the box.  We actually read the directions.  We made a (somewhat) smart plan on how to put the new unit on the roof.  One of our ladders was pretty long.  So we put it at an angle and just shoved the unit up the ladder.  Dad was on one ladder and I was on another beside that one.  In the end we managed to get the unit up on the roof, and then took another break.  

The next thing was to line up the A/C unit on the roof hole.  It sounds easy, and I can't say that it's too hard of a thing to do, but it really is time consuming.  Well, it is if you want to do it right.

So the new bolts went in, and the new parts for the underside were installed.  Again, it wasn't hard, it was just time consuming.  Especially when you consider how many water breaks we were taking.  

The next part was to connect the (optional) heat strips and the wiring.  Most of the wiring was just pushing a plug into it's receptacle.  Again, not hard, I just had to see which end went up.  Next we screwed the cover on.

Great news!  We plugged it in, and it worked the first time.  What I liked was that it was immediately cold.  It wasn't one of those units where you have to let it run fifteen minutes, and then it thinks about cooling.  No, it was immediately cold.  Needless to say we were really happy with it.  

Here's what the unit looked like (from the outside) installed.

Not bad for six (grumble, grumble) hours worth of work.  If I had to do it all over again... I totally would.  Have you ever tried to stay in a camper without A/C when it's 95 degrees with 100% humidity?  Like me winning the lottery it just ain't happening.  

Hopefully this unit will last for a long time.  Namely, because I don't want to do all that work again.  But if I do, I'm certainly going to do it sometime other than summer in Florida.  

A Dog And His Boy

One of the reasons I started this blog so many years ago was not only to tell tales of destruction for fun and profit, but to write down all the stories I've collected.  After 600 blog posts I've told quite a number of my stories, so I thought it was time to write one about someone else.  Namely, my Father.

It was the summer of 1957.  My Dad was almost ready to turn eight years old.  He lived in the backwoods of West Virginia, so with the exception of automobiles and a black and white television, life still closely resembled 1857 in some ways.  I can hear his voice saying, "Come on, it wasn't that bad!"

There aren't many pictures of my Dad from that age, and the ones that exist are in rough shape.  But the first time I saw a photograph of my Father from that age I immediately said, "You look exactly like Timmy from Lassie!"

As was the norm back in those days my family had rabbit hunting dogs, namely beagles.  Now my Dad was not allowed to hunt until he was sixteen, but he did take care of the dogs as well as other duties on the farm.  So even though he hadn't quite turned eight years old, the duty to build a doghouse for his dog Penny fell to him.

You have to remember the times.  My Dad didn't have access to power tools.  If he wanted to cut a 2X4 he had to cut it with a handsaw.  If he wanted to hold the wood together he had to either drive a nail with a hammer, or use a screwdriver to run the screw through the wood.  He didn't have a power drill to do the hard work. 

My Grandfather had access to a lot of scrap wood from whatever carpentry project he was working on at the time (namely houses and bridges.) That meant my Dad didn't have to chop down a tree or anything like that. But when it came to the actual work, my Dad put it all together with old timey hand work.

Just for comparison, if you know a seven year old (going on eight,) ask what have they done lately? Does it involve playing Pokémon? Does it involve watching TV? Or have they performed any old time carpentry lately?
So Dad finished building the doghouse for Penny.  He was proud of his hard work.  But dogs and especially beagles are finicky creatures.  Remember how Snoopy liked to sleep on top of his doghouse?

Well, Penny decided to dig a hole underneath the doghouse and sleep there.

That's right.  She completely avoided the nice living space that Dad had built, and dug right underneath the doghouse to create a little den.  Penny must have thought she had a little wolf in her.  Honestly though, if you've never encountered a hunting dog, they are a bit different than a house dog.  They have a bit more attitude and aggression than your cocker spaniel house dog.  

Most people, especially kids, would have been discouraged or mad.  But that's never really been my Dad's style.  He just had to laugh about it, and realized a beagle is going to do what a beagle wants to do.  If Penny wanted to sleep in her little den beneath the doghouse then he figured she had made up her mind to do so.  Nothing he could do would change that. 

Also, could you get mad at a face like this?

Nah, didn't think so.

New Hunting/Camping Trailer Day: It's About Time

All the way back in 1987 my Dad along with his friend John W. bought a 1966 17 ft. Shasta trailer.  It was worn, smelled like dog, and needed a ton of work.  But it only cost $500.  So, it was kind of a fair trade off.  Over the years we've repaired and added things like new refrigerators, A/C units, and a bunk bed.

But it's now been 30 years since it was bought and 51 years since the trailer was manufactured.  When we took it hunting earlier in November we discovered rotted wood, holes, metal that was crumpling.  Not to mention it's always been a bit small for three full sized men.  Basically, it was time to buy a new camper.

I had been looking at different types of campers for months.  Craigslist is a great place to look for them since it covers a wide area, and I could put in what I was looking for.  Namely, manufactured year and price.  I had seen a number of trailers that were great buys, but they sold before I could even call or see them in person.

The hard part in trying to buy a trailer was buying one that the three of us could agree on.  I wanted a longer one (27-29 feet long,) but Dad wanted a shorter one (20 feet long.)  One thing we had to be careful of was the weight.  Neither one of us could haul a heavy trailer.  The perfect trailer also had to have a layout in which the three of us wouldn't be tripping over each other.

So when I saw a 1996, 20 ft. long Mallard by Fleetwood trailer I knew I had to give it a look.  The pictures on it looked great.  I loved the layout in that, the three of us could easily sleep in it, and wouldn't be stepping on each other all the time.

Basically we drove to Zephyrhills, and looked at the trailer.  The seller had multiple people looking at it.  We looked it over, huddled, and agreed to make an offer.  We agreed to a price with the seller, and drove to our bank.  We ran into horrific traffic due to an accident, so it took a while to make it back, but we bought the trailer, and drove it home.

Let's go to the photos!!!

Here's the side view.

I like the number of windows.  Not too many, not too few.

Here's the side by side with the old trailer.

Here's the corner/side view.

When you walk through the door, the couch/bed is directly to the right.

As you sit on the couch you can see the table on the left (turns into a bed,) and kitchen on the right.  In the back left is the bathroom.  On the right are dual bunks.

Another nice thing about the trailer is how tall it is.  I was close to brushing my head on the top of the old Shasta trailer all the time.  I don't feel so cramped all the time in the Mallard by Fleetwood.

Here are the dual bunks in the back.  It will be perfect for our hunting buddy John W.  He can sleep in the bottom, and put all his stuff in the top.  He usually keeps his things in black garbage bags so that setup really works for him.

Now, the trailer will need some work.  The lights need repaired.  And we need to add tie-downs to the propane tanks and the propane cover.  There are always going to be "surprise" things that will be discovered, and need to be repaired.  But overall, there doesn't seem to be that much that needs repaired.  (Famous last words.)  If there is you can be sure that I will write a blog about it.

New Orange Day

Well, hunting season has come and gone.  But that's okay.  Because that's when the sales start.  Or at least they should.  But I digress.  Let's talk about something that is needed out hunting.  Orange.

No, not that kind of orange.  I'm talking about a hunting vest in blaze orange.  Since hunters don't want to be shot by other hunters we wear blaze orange.  By rule, we are supposed to wear 144 inches of orange, so that means a ball cap is just fine.  However most of us wear vests. 

When I was 14 years old my Grandparents bought me a reversible camo/blaze orange vest.  I have worn that vest every hunting season for the past (mumble, mumble) years.  However, it was starting to wear out.  It had rips, holes and tears in it.  The color had also faded quite a bit.  So it was time to search for a new vest. 

A few months ago I found the perfect vest.  Here it is:

This is the Redhead Upland Field Vest.  It's tough as nails, and has a lot of handy pockets.  I wanted a vest with lots of pockets so I could load it up with supplies, instead of loading my jacket up.  In Florida it gets so hot, even in November, that you don't actually need to wear a jacket.  But this past hunting season the temperature was all over the place.  Sometimes I wore my super heavy jacket.  Other times I wore a light jacket.  So to keep from having to move all my gear, a vest with lots of pockets was necessary.

I was waiting for the vest to go on sale, but it never did.  I searched for it on the Bass Pro Shops website, and it was gone.  So I called Bass Pro Shops Brandon, and they said they hadn't received any new shipments of it.  They expected that it was going to be discontinued.  So I bit the bullet, and bought one of the last ones today at the Brandon store. 

I didn't get it on sale, but at least I got it.  I'll admit that no other vest really had my interest the way the Redhead vest did.  I'll admit the Browning vest was similar to it, and had heavier fabric, but it also cost $30 more.  The good news is that this vest will last me the rest of my hunting days.  So I'll look at it like a good investment. 

Hunting Season: Snipe Island, 2016

So I made it back from hunting last week.  I have been able to think on things properly, and feel like I can put together a pretty good, although pretty long blog.  I had my computer up there, so I posted what happened to me the next day on Facebook.  So I will copy and paste what I originally posted, and then edit and expound on my thoughts. 

This year we didn't get to go on the quota hunt.  We all had things to do at that time.  So we had the week of Thanksgiving off, so my Dad (John L.) and our hunting buddy, John W. left on the Thursday before Thanksgiving.  Due to attending school I left on Friday after class.

We didn't hunt at our usual place, Hickory Mound, which is 15 miles from the town of Perry, Fl.  We decided to hunt next door (to the west) at a place called Snipe Island.  Word had gotten around that the hunting was much better there.  It was also much easier to hunt that year, in that, they had not had rain for a while, and I could walk in my regular hiking boots there.  That made it nice as I have a nice broken in set of Columbia boots.


This is my post after hunting Saturday, Nov. 19th, 2016.  I wrote this on Sunday morning (Nov. 20th.) at 9:54 AM.

I wasn't able to post last night due to a series of strange happenings. First off, I shot a hog at 4:50 PM, but I just made it mad.  I didn't realize it at the time.  I thought I hit it, and wounded it.  I called Dad on the handheld CB, and it took him about ten minutes to make it over to me.  Although, a lot of that time was spent getting down from his tree-stand.

As I was in my tree-stand, I pointed Dad down the path to where I thought the hog was.  The path was about 40 yards from me, and brush blocked my view of where I thought the hog was.  Dad used his tracking skills that he hadn't used in years.  He ended up walking within 10 yard of it, and then.... IT FREAKIN' CHARGED HIM!!! No, I'm not making this up.

It was only 10 yards from him. Dad shot four times, and the hog turned tail. I saw it 150 yards away  running through the brush into the next county. Dad says he is okay. His pants need a good washing, but he's okay.  Again, I am not trying to pull an April Fools in November. A big 200 pound (most likely boar) hog tried to run over Dad.

And that's not the end of it. So we were waiting for our hunting partner John to come out of the woods. He comes out at his usual pitch black darkness time of night. But then he tells me that I saved his life.  I thought, "What?" 

Earlier in the day I showed him how to use his new personal GPS toy. Admittedly, he's still not quite up on electronics. But I plugged in the truck's location on his GPS, and showed him how to use it.
He was still kind of iffy on how to use it, but carried it with him anyways. When he decided to come out the woods, he took his compass out, and that's when he noticed it had come apart. In other words, no compass, and he's out there in the dark.  And this was the time of month where there was no moon.  It was, "you can't see your hand in front of you" kind of dark.

So he takes out his GPS, and he at least starts moving in the direction where the distance towards the truck is getting shorter. He ended up going through some dense woods, but he made it to the truck.  Once he got to the truck he thanked me many times.  I don't think he's ever done that.

So it got down to 29 degrees last night (from Friday night to Saturday morning,) and with it being a late night for all of us, we decided to sleep in this morning. There was no way I was going to be able to get Dad and John W. out of bed at 5 AM with it being 29 degrees out. So we decided to sleep in.

And you know what? I still woke up exactly at 5:00 AM. On the dot. Exactly. But I did manage to go back to sleep. Now I am up and about. We are going to go order breakfast at Poncey's Restaurant.
I told Dad that, "Only winners get breakfast," but he said we needed to eat so that we could go back out there, and bag something.

I'm still feeling a bit depressed. In my life I have shot 5 hogs. I recovered 3 of them. One was so big, I probably just torqued it off, and the other was this one. I hate wounding an animal, and having it run off like that, but it has happened to every hunter.

So I will get back out there this evening. I will say this. This place we are hunting this year, (Snipe Island,) is full of game. I saw a man take a hog out on a trailer it was so big.  It looked like it was part bear.  It was a true 300 pounder.  And another hunter, Zack, who is hunting the same area as us, managed to take out a 6 point buck. So there is a lot more game here than at Hickory Mound.

Okay, let me hunt down some breakfast. I'll be careful out there. Take care everyone.

I managed to get back to my computer that night, Saturday, Nov. 20th, 2016 at 9:35 PM.

I'm back at the camping trailer tonight. Today we slept in, and still ended up with a late start to the evening hunt. I did manage to see a bird of prey. It was bigger than a red shouldered hawk, but smaller than an osprey. It was diving through the trees so I didn't get a good look at it. I'm not sure what kind of bird it was.

Dad did see a few owls, and we both had squirrels acting.... well squirrely. They were throwing stuff all over the place including at palmettos.  And when the acorns hit the palmettos the sound would carry through the trees like crazy.

We will start out a bit later than we usually do in the morning. It could have something to do with it being 31 degrees in the morning, and not being able to drag the retired folk out of bed in that weather.

So we are planning to really put a lot of time in the woods tomorrow. I don't know when I will be able to check back in. So if you send me a message give me time to get back to you. Take care.

Here's my post from the evening of Monday Nov. 28th, 2016 at 9:56 PM.

Today was a weird day. Here's what happened.

I used some cardboard to check my gun's shot pattern. I have some older shells that didn't really pattern too well. That's strange since they are Remington shells, and my gun is a Remington 1100. It usually shoots Remington shells well. I shot some newer Remington shells, and they didn't pattern that well either.

The other thing was that they sounded underpowered.  I tried some Winchester shells I had, and they patterned the best of all of them. They also had more kick (power.) So I am using those Winchester shells for the rest of my hunt.

This leads me to think I just flat missed the hog. But I'm still not sure why it laid under the palmetto bush instead of running. I wonder if I hit it in a place where it stung it, but not hurt it.

We had a late start to the day due to being up late yesterday. As we were driving we had two does jump the road 300 yards away. Where we were driving through was still private property on each side of the road. We hadn't made it to the hunt area quite yet.

Nothing happened in the morning, and nothing happened in the evening. Dad and I planned to get out of our treestands at 5:30 PM. At 5:28 PM I heard all sorts of racket. I thought a turkey and a squirrel were going at it. I called Dad on the walkie-talkie, and as I was doing so, I saw an owl come out from where I had heard the noise.

It landed within 15 yards of me, but high up in a tree. It was amazing. I was talking to Dad when all of this happened. I told him to hang on while I got my camera. I managed to hoist my bag up, get my camera out, and power it up. However when I looked down to power it up, the owl flew somewhere else. I would have loved to have gotten film footage of it.

(Sidnote:  I found out later that the owl was a Great Horned Owl.  Their color patterns can vary from brown to grey.  This one had a lot of grey on it.   It was also very tall.  It was probably the bird of prey I saw the day before.  It looked a lot like this one.)

So Dad and I are making our way down the trail to get to the truck. The squirrels start making all sorts of racket. I hear the woods just come alive. It's now about 5:50 PM. I hear some rustling, and look over to see!!!!...... an armadillo. So we keep walking.

We are about 75 yards from the truck when I hear another loud crash and bang in the woods. It's so dark I can't really see anything. Whatever it is, is making a lot of noise. I almost wondered if it was another hunter it was making so much noise. I looked around for a hog, but couldn't see any movement.

I slipped my tree-stand off my back, and walked into the woods. Whatever it was stopped moving. I suspected it was another armadillo. I couldn't see anything by this point. It was 6:00 PM after all. So I made it back to the trail.

That's when I heard yet another crash. Dad saw it immediately. This time, to the right, was two giant birds ( I believe they were vultures) rising out of the treeline. What I think happened was that they had sat on a dead branch, and it broke, then fell onto a palmetto making a racket. The birds took off in flight. So we continued onto the truck.

We then drove down the road to pick up John W. We told him of our strange happenings, and he told us that not much had happened to him.

Once we made it to Highway 98, Dad started noticing deer on the road. I thought he was having fun with us, in that, I hadn't seen them. But then, I started seeing them. One after another after another. I think I had counted up to 15 deer (all does,) before I thought to get my camera out. Of course, then there were no more deer.

So we decided to eat at Poncey's Restaurant. It has amazing food, and that small town feel to it. I am still stuffed.

So I have one more day of hunting tomorrow. Let's see how it goes. I am wearing the pair of pants I hate the most in hopes that I get blood (not mine) all over them.
Take care, Adrian out.

My next post was on Wednesday, Nov. 23, 2016 after I had made it back home.  I wrote about what happened on Tuesday, Nov. 22nd, 2016. 

So here's the weirdness that was yesterday's hunting adventure. We got up late since I couldn't get the older men out of bed at a normal hunting hour. Also, it was just too cold for them. In all fairness it did go down to 29 degrees.

So nothing really happened during the morning hunt. We went to a new place in Snipe Island.
During the afternoon hunt, nothing happened.... until 5:10 PM. I heard a gunshot, and thought it was our hunting partner John W. shooting at something.

At 5:28 PM (2 minutes before we were supposed to get down from our treestands,) I hear all sorts of racket. I stand up, turn around in my treestand, and look over to see what's going through the woods. I could hear it, but not see it. I suspect it was yet another armadillo.

So we get down, and head to the truck. Just 50 yards from the truck, I hear a noise. I turn to my right, and it's a .... possum. Dad says I can't shoot it since it's my spirit animal. It runs down a hole, and we continue onto the truck.  Dad is correct about that. 

Dad and I were at the truck when two men walked up to the truck next to us. I immediately got a weird vibe from them. They never looked at us. They never said hi. One guy threw his loaded rifle in his truck, ripped off his orange, and jumped in. The other one did unload a shotgun, put it in the back, and jumped in the passenger side.

They then fired up the truck, and took off a little faster than people do when driving on a dirt road. I almost thought they peeled out. Either way, they got the hell out of there.

I asked Dad if he thought they were acting strange, and he said he thought they were creepy and acting very suspicious. Dad asked me if I remembered what kind of truck it was, what color it was, and what the license plate number was.

I got on the CB, and start asking if John W. was on the air. He was supposed to check in with us at 6:00 PM, and it was now past six.

I keep trying John on the CB, and am getting no reply. Dad and I decided to go down the trail (we had never been down,) and search for John. It was pitch back, and we had only our radios and flashlights looking for him.

We were worried that the gunshot was one the creepy guys killing John, and then getting the hell out of Dodge. Think about it. A single shot from John's direction. Two creepy guys acting creepy. And then John isn't on the radio.

At 6:30 PM, I see a light down the trail. Thankfully, it's John. I ask him why he wasn't on the radio, and he says that, "We didn't agree to do that today." Sidenote: John has the worst memory of anyone I've ever met.

I told him about what went on, and he completely dismissed my feelings and told me that I was jumping to conclusions. I got pretty pissed off. Even after I calmed down over an hour later, and explained everything again, he didn't get it. I got angry again.

I keep trying to explain that I was actually concerned for him, and he just doesn't get it. He can not see something from someone else's point of view. He never has.  So I'm kind of glad that hunting season is over. I think it went on long enough. Any more and we were just going to end up annoying each other the rest of trip.


Conclusion:  So, I've had a chance to think it over.  I know I'm a bit quick to anger and a bit quick to suspect bad things.  I wish John had seen things from my point of view, but I can't make him.  I wish we would have had more days to hunt, or at least be able to participate in the morning hunts more.  I really wish I would have killed that hog.  But that's why they call it hunting, and not getting. 

After looking at shot patters of shotguns on the internet I think I am going to have to use a rifle out hunting.  In fact, I am talking to the local gun store about trading in for a Ruger RAR in a .308.  It's a no-frills workhorse with a synthetic stock.  I can knock it around in the woods and get it dirty. 

One thing that we did that we hadn't done before was get a group picture.  Since one of us had to hold the camera we never took a picture with all three of us.  So this time we had the check station manager take a picture of the three of us.  I'll leave this post with this.